The tenements
are simple as birds' nests, primitive as the Highlander's mud-cabin and
shieling of wattle and heather. The outer walls are of bamboo-palm fronds,
the partitions are of bamboo-palm matting, and the roofs are of
bamboo-palm thatch. Each place has its _osafahin_, or headman, and each
headman has his guest-house, built of better material, swish or adobe.
The only approach to grandeur are the long surges and white combers of the
mournful and misty Atlantic. They roll like the waving prairie-land, curl
their huge heads, and dash down in a fury of foam. 'On the top of a billow
we ride,' with a witness. Here and there black dots peer through the surf,
and to touch them is death. This foul shore presents a formidable barrier
to landing: there absolutely is no safe place between Apollonia and the
Ancobra. European employes avoid tempting the breakers; they disembark and
re-embark for home, and that is all. Mr. Grant assures us that there is no
risk; Mr. Grillett, who has worked the coast since 1875, says the
contrary; no man knows it better or fears it more. Some places are worse
than others; for instance, Inenyapoli is exceptionally dangerous.
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